A/N: Thanks to /u/karlitohomes for catching my several Padma/Parvati flubs...darn twins. And /u/eric1221bday for another (Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw), and /u/4t0m for "sort have" *cringe*.

o-o-o-o-o

Chapter 12 - Leverage

"Oh, thank you for coming to me!" Hermione said, sincerely. "I'm sorry about being rather dramatic in the note there but there's no trouble really, so I can just take those back...and did you actually give a copy to someone like I suggested?" The Slytherin made no move to hand her the papers, only studied her thoughtfully.

"I can't tell you, obviously," he said quietly, after a moment. "That was the whole point, wasn't it? So that if whatever is possessing you does something to me as well, there'd be a third line of defense?" Hermione sighed. He was absolutely right, and it's exactly what she would've wanted him to do in her original plan...but now it just made things complicated. She wished, once more, that she'd thought things through a little better. "The question is," he continued, "is that actually what's going on here?"

"I...er...oh?" Hermione stammered, caught off guard and tensing up. Could he have somehow figured out the same thing she had, about her future-self? That could be even worse than just having read what was there. The boy smiled a little bit, at her reaction.

"Well, you're not possessed, for starters, I got that from the nurse."

"You...Madam Wainscott told you that?" Hermione was vaguely offended at the apparent breach of medical - or metaphysical? - confidentiality.

"I told her I was afraid for my own safety, considering what happened to Madam Pomfrey…'what if what happened to that first-year wasn't just a hex, what if some Dark spirit was doing things with her body? Who could be next?'" He smiled a little. "Not my best by far, but she's very eager to keep students healthy and happy...assured me up and down that she'd specifically checked for possession and ruled it out." Hermione's offense immediately reversed direction, as she imagined the nurse's kind nature being turned against her, and even bringing up Madam Pomfrey. In her mental notes on the Slytherin Question, she added a tick-mark next to "Nott, Theodore".

"So, the whole thing is definitely made up...either because you did get hit by some obscure hex I'd never heard of, or because you did it deliberately. Do you actually believe the things in there are going to happen?"

Hermione frowned at the direct question. She thought they might, but she wasn't sure. But she wasn't sure if she should even say. She didn't know Theodore at all, didn't have any sense of how he'd react to things, so trying to manipulate him was right out, even if she was good at that sort of thing, which she knew she wasn't.

"Not in the way I think you're asking. I mean, anything's possible, but...this whole thing with the notes was...well, I didn't think it through enough. May I please just have them back and we can pretend this never happened?" The Slytherin nodded thoughtfully, though he was not agreeing to her request.

"You're not insisting it's true, which could be because you made it up yourself, or the hex has just worn off and you're embarrassed. Anyway, I'm curious, but that's not really why we need to talk."

"I'm definitely embarrassed," Hermione mumbled.

"What you should be is concerned, if not outright terrified," continued the boy. Hermione didn't disagree, but she wasn't sure why he thought that, if he believed everything in the notes was made up…

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, for starters, you've made some serious allegations and implications about prominent people, here. Ollivander. The Malfoys. At minimum, you've opened yourself to charges of Defamation and Impugning the Honor of a Noble House. Maybe the hex excuse could get you off, if you could afford a good enough barrister or had powerful people willing to stand for you in the Wizengamot, but maybe not - they can't just accept everyone claiming 'I was Confunded' or 'I was under an Imperius', you know, or no one would ever be convicted of anything."

This sounded unpleasantly likely to Hermione...handling questions of legal responsibility when things like the Imperius Curse and Memory Charms existed was a sticky problem. Hermione had read about something called Veritaserum, which could make someone not lie, or even force them to volunteer true answers, but there was an apparently undetectable antidote, as well as other ways around it, including Memory Charms.

"Then there's the matter of Potter announcing the Dark Lord's return. If an actual Death Eater read that and thought there was even the slightest chance of it being a real Prophecy, well…" Hermione put her hands to her mouth in horror.

"They'd go after Harry," she breathed. Nott looked irritated and shook his head.

"No. Well, I mean yes, but they'd have done that anyway, Boy-Who-Lived and all that. I meant they'd come for you. They'd rip every scrap of information they thought might be useful from your mind, and then torture you to produce more prophetic details, torture your parents, torture your pets...they're very big on torture, you know. Not that there are supposed to be any Death Eaters outside Azkaban anymore, but relying on the Ministry to have not missed any...mmm. I certainly wouldn't." Hermione paled, and thought she might be sick. The vision where the crazed witch was torturing Hermione's older self...was this how that started?

"Wait...but all of this is only a problem if the notes get distributed! So you can just give them back, and get back any copies you made…" Hermione's eager solution trailed off as the Slytherin said nothing, the corners of his lips curling upwards ever so slightly. Hermione stared, uncomprehending, until she suddenly did. She found herself unable to say anything, even as some part of her mind was bitterly adding tick marks and checks and little dripping crosses beside "Nott, Theodore".

"I see you've finally realized the situation you put yourself in," said the boy, with considerable - almost theatrical - relish. Hermione had the bizarre impression that if he'd had a moustache, he'd have twirled it.

"What do you want?" asked Hermione, quietly.

"Do you know, I haven't decided yet?" he replied cheerfully. "I thought it'd be weeks until I had leverage like this on anyone, and only after loads of work. I'd rub it in Malfoy's face, but then he'd start digging for details, and that could be awkward, eh?" Nott winked. "But just stumbling across this little gem, literally begging someone to pick it up and read it...feels like I didn't really earn it, you know?" For a moment Hermione dared to hope that some twisted sense of - what, blackmail-pride? - would get her out of this, but her heart sank as he continued. "Not that I really have a problem with that. Beyond power and wealth and honor and all that, it's what being a pure-blood really means...that good things happen to people like me, and bad things happen to people like you." Hermione felt blood rush to her cheeks, hot, liquid shame. She knew she didn't even have anything to be ashamed of, her parents were wonderful, but somehow, she felt it all the same, like being bullied but a hundred times worse. Because it wasn't about how she acted, or dressed, though those were bad enough. Simply because of what she was.

Hermione thought of herself as a very, very, good person, which was why she found her sudden daydreams of very nasty things happening to Theodore Nott equally curious and shameful.

But not technically unpleasant, which on a deeper level made it even worse.

"I'm going to have to think about this some more," he said, finally. "Rest assured, I'll come up with something worthwhile, and meanwhile I'm confident the extra copies I made will be quite safe...and won't be read until the proper time." With that, he turned and began walking towards the Transfiguration classroom.

Hermione found her wand in her left hand, somehow, the tip aimed at Theodore's back, and beginning the complicated shape that started a Memory Charm. Which was insane, Memory Charms were awful, they ought to be Unforgivable, and even if she'd seen a couple performed - at least memories of them, rather - she hadn't practiced, she could get it wrong, she wasn't that kind of person-

The wand clattered onto the floor as she forced her hand to open, interrupting the spell. The Slytherin paused at the noise, slowly half-turned his head back. His eyes dropped to the wand, then back to Hermione's face. He smiled a little, then continued walking.

Hermione, hands shaking, picked up her wand and put it back in her bag, then slowly followed.

o-o-o

There were odd looks as Nott, and ten seconds later Hermione, entered the classroom just before the period was to begin, and a couple of whispers, which the Slytherin ignored and Hermione barely registered. Tracey Davis was in a back corner, looking less determined and more nervous again as Daphne and Pansy in adjacent desks whispered at her urgently. Whereas Morag seemed a bit surprised to see Hermione come in, but quickly covered it. Maybe since I was almost late she'd thought I was going to skip class? Hermione thought, dully.

She hurriedly took a seat as Professor McGonagall sharply tapped her wand on her desk three times, and the class quieted. But before the Professor could even say a word, Morag had her hand in the air.

"Yes, Miss MacDougal?"

"I just wanted tae ask...did you ask Hermione not to help us with Transfiguration?" Morag's expression seemed entirely innocent, but expectant. The Professor paused, and most of the Ravenclaws unconsciously held their breath.

"I did," she said, simply. There was an audible exhalation of relief, even amongst those who had professed to believe Hermione's explanation, but Morag's face went dark.

"Why?" she asked, and she'd dropped any pretense at innocent curiosity.

"That a Professor has given an instruction ought to be sufficient, Miss MacDougal," the Professor said primly, but continued in a more conciliatory tone. "All I will say for the moment is that Miss Granger has had an insight about Transfiguration, but one which I am not yet sure is safe to be disclosed. Once I have made that determination, I may lift the restrictions I've given her, or not, as appropriate."

"But that's not fair!"

"Miss MacDougal," said the Professor, warningly. She waited, and Morag glowered but said nothing, earning a nod from McGonagall. "There are many innate talents a witch may possess, or not, facilities for broomstick flying, or Charms, or Transfiguration, and these talents are generally not distributed fairly. In the long run, diligent study and practice almost always eclipses such inherent gifts. But regardless, be glad that in this case, Miss Granger's innovations may be something you can eventually benefit from, rather than something unique to her? I assure you that Miss Granger wanted nothing more than to share with the rest of the class, and is in fact undertaking additional work outside of class to explore making that possible." This caused a lot of the students, Slytherins included, to look at Hermione with an assortment of expressions, some baffled, some admiring, others thoughtful. The Professor paused again, and when there was no further interruption, began the day's lecture.

o-o-o

Hermione's determination to treat Slytherins without prejudice or prejudgement was at an extremely low ebb, so it was probably for the best that her first Potions class was with Hufflepuff. They would be the first first-years to have Professor Snape - Gryffindor and Slytherin had their first Potions tomorrow morning - so no one knew for sure what it would be like. But upper-year Ravenclaws had said he was only a little more strict than McGonagall, though much less polite to students, whereas Ron had reported upper-year Gryffindors said he was horrible, unfair, vindictive and Not-Very-Secretly Evil, but of course that's what most students said about Slytherins in general, and Gryffindors promoted this view almost unanimously. It was also widely reported that Snape had been after the Defence Professorship for years (many speculated this was so he would be permitted to cast Dark spells on students for "educational" purposes).

This sort of muddy thinking tended to irritate Hermione, which was why she found it irritating in an entirely different way when Snape swept into the room, his black cloak flapping, and looked Evil. Not quite Dracula-Evil, but certainly as if he was actively working at it. Maybe this was just what you got when people gave up and embraced the Slytherin reputation. She supposed that could be a valid coping strategy for saving your sanity, though possibly at the cost of your soul - metaphorically speaking.

He called roll in a businesslike fashion, then simply paused and stared at the class for a moment, which stretched on and on uncomfortably. No one chose to interrupt the silence, however - the Professor had a kind of cold intensity that made any such impulse seem unwise at best. Finally, he began to speak.

"Despite what many of you may believe," he began, slowly, "Potion-making is magic of the highest order, a subtle science and an exacting art, beautiful and unforgiving in equal measure. Potions carry insidious power, for by ingestion do they bypass our defences, traveling in our very blood, to our hearts, our brains, every fibre of our being. Nothing you possess cannot be improved upon, or stolen away, by the skilled application of the proper recipe.

"But Potion-making is not like other magic. Like Transfiguration, it requires mental discipline, knowledge and attention to detail. Like Charms, it requires instinct, dexterity and memory. But unlike either, the strength of its effects come entirely from the ingredients, transformed by pure skill, not your own pathetically underdeveloped magical abilities. In other schools of magic, you still lack the strength to do true harm, even accidentally. But Potions will serve anyone with sufficient skill and knowledge, regardless of age. They will punish those who do not respect them. Make the wrong slip with the wrong substance of power...and you - and perhaps others - will join Madam Pomfrey." A couple of gasps greeted this, but the Professor looked more quietly pleased than irritated at the reaction.

"Show the Art the proper respect, however, and you will see wonders...I can teach you to bottle fame, to brew glory, even stopper death...but only if you are significantly less idiotic than the wastes of salt I am typically forced to instruct." Hermione found herself, a bit surprisingly, respecting Professor Snape. It was a similar introduction as McGonagall had given for Transfiguration, with as much presence but more drama. And even though she recognized his last line as an attempt at manipulation, inspiring students to prove him wrong, it was working anyway...she did want to earn his respect - and it was clear he truly loved his subject, which in Hermione's experience was a quality the best teachers shared.

"By the time I've finished writing the ingredients for today's lesson on the blackboard," he said, turning to do as he'd said, "I expect you to have arranged yourselves in pairs and half-filled a cauldron with water from the gargoyle." Hermione looked around as students immediately began pairing up. She'd vaguely expected the Patil twins to find each other, since they'd gone to different houses. Padma seemed to think the same thing, heading in her sister's direction, but stopped short as Parvati immediately asked Neville Longbottom to be her partner. Seeing Padma's face fall a bit, Hermione saw an opportunity to reciprocate Parvati's kindness in Defence and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Want to team up? Between the two of us, we can probably finish early and maybe get points for helping others?" The other girl smiled at the casual assumption of their combined superiority and quickly agreed. As the class continued and they dutifully followed Professor Snape's instructions - but quickly, as they'd both read ahead to know what was coming - Padma dared some quiet conversation.

"So, really, Hermione, what's going on? When you came into Transfiguration, you looked even worse than you did in Defence, but you're not just feeling unwell, you're thinking about something, I can tell." Hermione was starting to get very tired of not being able to tell people things, but she brightened a smidge as she realized that in this case maybe she could say something, since it would seem entirely reasonable to withhold details. And she'd dearly appreciate some emotional support, if not actual assistance.

"Say someone had found something you'd written that you didn't want other people to see," Hermione said, too quietly to be overheard, "something embarrassing, or very private...and they knew that you felt that way and planned to use that to get you to do something or give them money, or...whatever, something you wouldn't ordinarily do. How would you get out of it?"

"Nott is blackmailing you?" Padma said immediately, and Hermione looked around in alarm since her fellow Ravenclaw had been not quite as quiet as Hermione would have preferred. No one appeared to have heard her, but Hermione held a finger to her lips urgently, even as her mind spun. How did...what...what? But her confusion lasted only a moment, replaced with chagrin. She'd come in too closely behind Nott...and he'd been giving her looks that anyone could've noticed, even if they hadn't known what they meant. And she'd forgotten that other people could be clever.

"Probably. He says he's thinking about it," Hermione whispered.

"Well, what is it of yours that he's got?" Padma asked, finally matching Hermione's conspiratorial tone.

"Sorry...I can't really say, can I?" Hermione noted, and thankfully Padma accepted this, nodding thoughtfully.

"You could go to Flitwick, I suppose," she suggested after a moment. "If it's really your property, he'll be able to find it with spells, and he might even Memory Charm Nott so he couldn't spill your secrets to anyone." Hermione frowned.

"I don't like Memory Charms...but also, Nott said he's made copies, and those aren't my property - plus I don't know who he's given them to or what he's told them...even if he's Memory Charmed, they might realize somehow and then just tell him again, or distribute everything?" Padma frowned, and nodded slowly as they continued brewing their Boil-Curing Potion. Their tête-à-tête was briefly interrupted by a cry from Padma's sister, who was yanking Neville's arm away from the cauldron.

"No, Neville! We have to take the cauldron off the fire before adding the quills," Parvati said urgently.

"Oh, right, right," Neville agreed nervously, though he immediately started to do so by grasping the small round pot by its sides rather than the handle and yelped as his fingers were singed. Fortunately he hadn't lifted it far enough to spill anything when he hastily dropped the cauldron, though it teetered dangerously for a moment.

"Point from Hufflepuff for Longbottom's idiocy, point to Hufflepuff for Miss Patil's timely intervention," snapped Snape from across the classroom, and if anyone thought it peculiar for the Professor to cancel a penalty with an award (or vice versa), no one thought it prudent to mention. "Longbottom, there's unguent in the third drawer from the top on the left at the front of the room, see to your hands...if you're very lucky, your partner will successfully finish the potion before you can return and make another attempt to ruin it." There were a couple of titters from Ravenclaws, but most everyone else just looked scared, or grateful they weren't the target of the Professor's sharp tongue. Despite having prevented disaster and "earning" a point for Hufflepuff, Parvati seemed as dejected as Neville.

"She fancies him," whispered Padma to Hermione, who had been puzzling out Parvati's reaction.

"What, really?"

"Yep, ever since the train...she won't explain it either. Maybe she can't," mused Padma, whose expression said she certainly found it inexplicable. Hermione, who understood romance (or at least hormones) intellectually but hadn't yet been afflicted personally, found herself in agreement. They finished the next-to-last step of their potion, then lapsed into thoughtful silence while they waited for the small sand-glass to empty.

"Oh, of course," said Padma suddenly. "You've just got to get something similar on him. So if he ever let out your secret, you can let out his - that way, if he knows what's good for him, he'll just drop the whole thing." Hermione considered this.

"Mutually Assured Destruction? Hmm...I'm not sure I could go through with that, I really try to be as ethical a person as I can…" Padma gave her a peculiar look, then shook her head.

"Doesn't matter, as long as he believes that you might go through with it, it'll be enough. You can pretend to be Slytherin, right?" Hermione was about to correct her use of Slytherin as a pejorative, but before a word came out of her mouth, everyone went quiet as a voice hissed above them, loud enough to reach every corner of the classroom.

"Did you listen to a single word I said?" asked Professor Snape, his voice icy. "Idiocy is one thing, but your otherwise exemplary performance up to this point suggests that you two know better...and yet are now disrespecting your potion with your inattentive gossip." Padma tried to point out that she'd totally been watching the sand-glass, and it still had two minutes left, but the Professor rolled on relentlessly. "What was this discussion about that you deemed more important than your education, your safety, and the safety of your fellow students?"

Hermione stared up at him, wide-eyed, as his cold, dark eyes bored down at her. Being yelled at by a teacher was an entirely foreign concept that she was simply not emotionally prepared for, and only her raw shock was for the moment holding back the tears that were likely coming. Particularly since he was right, even if he was being overly harsh about it...since when did she jabber on during classes, let alone dangerous ones? Not that it wasn't important to keep herself out of Nott's devious clutches, or more so, to prevent him from revealing to any hypothetically-at-large Death Eaters that she knew Voldemort was going to-

Snape abruptly backed a single step away from her, his expression not changing in the slightest.

"Regardless of your opinions, It was not important. Keep it to yourself," he spat, then swept over to Terry and Kevin's table and began ruthlessly berating them for the their failure to stir evenly. Padma and Hermione glanced at each other in nervous confusion, each wanting to say "He forgot to take points from us," but unwilling to risk any speech at all. At least the strange reprieve had jolted Hermione out of her emotional tailspin before she'd shed any tears. Through everything, she'd felt Morag's inexplicably resentful eyes on her the whole time.

o-o-o

It was only after class was finished - all the students had practically sprinted out of his classroom, and he'd firmly shut and sealed the door with efficient twitches of his wand - that the wizard let his iron control slip. A bead of sweat formed at his temple, and his eyes showed some of what he'd felt upon casually invading the young girl's mind, as was his habit - ostensibly to keep his skills in practice, but at least in part simply for his own amusement.

Severus Snape sat alone for some time, struggling to overcome his shock. And fear.